What I Want, What I Need
by Bulmaveg-Otaku
Summary: Lemon Tart, anyone? It's basically shameless smut inspired by my own monk-like dry spell and A Doujinshi called Jun Ai, that I read online recently. Bulma/Vegeta One shot. Rating for Language and *ahem* sexual content.


What I Want, What I Need

A/N: I blasted this one shot out in one day. Writing practice and a mental break from my re-write of What I Feel For You.

Disclaimer: If the dragonballs were real I would find them and make Vegeta mine. But they aren't. And he isn't. Dammit.

Bulma's back arched as she crashed over the pinnacle of her third orgasm. One fist twisting in the sheets, holding on to the edge of reason, the other working the battery-operated appliance in and out of her now dripping pussy, pushing her further from it. She did not cry out, only gasped quietly as the waves of pleasure tided from her toes to her tummy.

"That was… a good one…" she panted to herself as the lingering tingle settled into her middle her legs liquefied into jelly. She unclenched the sheets and carefully, oh so carefully, pulled the favorite toy from her pulsing opening. There was an almost imperceptible sucking noise, and then she was empty again. She sighed as the disappointment and dissatisfaction coiled back in her gut like two heads of one snake. She had been sure THAT one would fulfill her raging horniness. Alas, it seemed it wasn't just the primal release that she was craving. She had sort of suspected it all along, but this latest experiment had proved her right.

When the feeling had returned to her legs she slid over the side of her bed, carefully handling the cum covered device that had failed to be MORE. She trudged into her bathroom, pouting slightly as she cleaned and dried her toy before returning it to the wooden chest under her bed. The cool air felt good against her bare ass and she felt a sensual pride at the way her breasts moved under her light tank top, unrestrained by her daytime brazier they bounced and jiggled delightfully. Her nipples rubbed ever so subtly again the texture of the cotton polyester weave sending mini lightning shocks into her…

Bulma roared in frustration. Since when had she become such an insatiable slut?! She fell back onto her bed and let her fists pummel the mattress at her side a few times. Since her and Yamcha had broken up six weeks ago. She'd been okay at first, channeling her normal sex drive into work and such. But after the one month mark of abstinence had come and gone she'd felt an exponential increase in her NEED. It was probably something physiological. Thirty had come and gone and the alarm on her biological clock was probably going off. She'd gone months without sex before, but she'd been younger and more carefree.

She'd never really thought about it before in much detail. Yamcha had been her man on and off since she was sixteen. She'd always known in the back of her mind that he was the one she would eventually marry, eventually have a family with. Well, it seemed as though eventually was here, but Yamcha was not. Sure they would probably kissed and made up by now, under typical circumstances, but times were anything but typical now.

Yamcha was off training. Not in the half-hearted, general way that he did in times of peace, but with everything he had. It was imperative that he did so, what with the androids coming in another two years or so. He was around to be kissed and made up with. So she wasted away, sexually.

That was another thing! The androids! For all she knew the world would be ending in two short years. Sure it was important that the boys trained to give it their best shot, and hopefully overcome the threat all together, but what if they failed? She didn't want to spend the last two years of her life living in a sexual desert. She wanted to live, Dammit! Not just that, she wanted to feel as alive as possible.

Rolling over, Bulma looked at her bedside clock. It was after midnight. Approaching one in the morning. It was definitely too late for a booty call. She considered calling Yamcha anyway, but make her look more desperate then she was willing to appear. She should just go to bed. She rose and walked into her bathroom again. This time she cleaned herself up, drying her thighs with had received a thorough drenching and wiping away as much of the residual lust as she could. that done she donned a pair of comfy boy shorts and climbed into bed. Bulma turned out the light and then made herself as comfortable as possible as she settled in and closed her eyes.

The instant she was asleep the dreams began. Senseless twisting and grinding and faceless bodies thrusting, skin on skin, wetness, pulling and clutching to chest and back, legs entwines, shuddering breath, thudding pulse…

Like a woman thirsty and drowning in the salt poisoned sea she wrestles herself into consciousness. Her eyes flew open and she gasped for air. Her woman parts throbbed almost painfully. The wetness of her had soaked through her panties. In a sweat tangled mass of sheets and flesh she lay trying to calm her hammering heart and her labored breathing. Unconsciously, her hands slid up over her chest, caressing firmly over her breasts. Her body nearly burned with sexual fever. She grabbed an extra pillow and held it over her face.

"FUCK!!!" she yelled. Her curse was only slightly muffled by the pillow. "I need some air," she said, chest heaving as she slammed the pillow back into the bed and struggled to free herself from her blasted sheets. In a fit she nearly tore the top sheet and her coverlet completely off. They curled off the bottom of her mattress like a turbulent grey and black waterfall frozen forever in soft linen and Chantilly lace.

She did not turn on the lights, instead letting the darkness and shadows mute the harshness of her current… condition. With a calm restrain she didn't know she could achieve until it was done, she pushed open the large sliding glass door that opened onto her balcony. Her curtains fluttered suddenly, brought to life by the inflow of fresh air.

The cement was a refreshing shock of COLD on her bare feet as she walked across the open space to lean against the waist high wall that acted as a railing here at the Capsule Corps. compound. For a second she wished for a dainty metal railing, one she could run her hands over seductively, before realized how crazed her thoughts really were. She bent over, neatly curling her heated body against the cold, solid concrete grateful for the decidedly un-sexiness of it and willed herself to become grounded, solid, still.

Her chin rested on the back of her hands folded at the thick edge of the half-wall. Bulma breathed deep.

That was better. She breathed slow and deep and the air and cement cooled her skin and she relaxed. She took a relieved breath and turned her head, leaning one cheek against her hands. This was a small relief from what felt like pure torture. She didn't know how much more she could endure before she completely lost it and did something she'd regret. Curling herself against a cold stone wall would work for now, but she needed to come up with a more permanent solution, and quick.

Perhaps she should just call Yamcha tomorrow and have him come over. It was sad she only had one man she could really count on for sex. There were probably lots of guys out there that would cream themselves for a chance to get between her thighs, but most of them were too intimidated by her beauty, brains, and money. They were pussies, all of them. What she wanted, no, what she CRAVED was a real man. Strong and virile who could fuck her like she needed to be fucked.

She pouted slightly. Yamcha was the closest thing she knew, but even he wasn't quite right for what she needed right now. He was, more often then not, gentle and somewhat timid. She usually had to tell him exactly what she wanted and how. Which was usually fine. Being dominant was in her nature. Right now though, she didn't want to have to be dominant. She wanted someone who would bend her over and TAKE her. Rough, harsh, dirty. A hard man who would show her and her tender bits no mercy. A man who was…

Vegeta. Movement caught the corner of her eye and she spotted him flying slowly over the curve of the Gravity Simulator heading towards the main building, towards her. She knew it was him because he was the only one it could be, though the darkness made it impossible to see him clearly. Kami, was he still up? It had to be pushing two am. She knew his training schedule was much more demanding then a normal human would be able to handle, up before dawn working all through the day and long into the night. She had wondered when he slept, if ever from time to time, even been concerned because he had been pushing himself past the limits of sanity, but there was no talking to him about it. He was such an arrogant ass! A tough guy who took no advice from anyone.

As he got closer she could make out the shape of his wild hair and the outline of his muscle packed frame. She stepped back and wrapped her arms around her chest. Bulma was suddenly freezing. Her nipples were already hard little nubs under the thin fabric of her tank top but now they constricted painfully. She fought the urge to rub some warmth into them.

Before she could decide to hide or not he was there flying steadily past her only ten or twelve feet away. His face turned sharply as he saw her standing there in the dark. He halted in mid air and turned towards her.

"Christ, Woman! What in the seven hells are you doing?!" he shouted at her angrily, as if she had startled him, though she knew she had not. He'd probably sensed her even before he'd left the gravity chamber. He was just always angry, it seemed. Anger, violence, danger, he was all that and more rolled up in one compact package. She shivered involuntarily and regarded him with a scowl worthy of his own.

"Not that it's any of your business but I was getting some air. I am allowed to do that without having to ask permission from the Mighty Prince of All Saiyans, aren't I?!" she felt her anger rekindle the spark in her nethers. Her blood was flowing again as she watched his scowl turn into a cocky smirk.

"It's about time you recognized that I'm am your superior," he drawled coolly eyeing her nearly naked form with casual derision.

"Fuck you, Vegeta," she huffed indignantly.

He looked slightly shocked at her use of profanity, Bulma wasn't usually one to drop the F bomb so casually, but he recovered quickly enough and gave her a mocking chuckle.

"Someone's got their panties in a twist," he said with equal parts disdain and delight as he turned to go.

Bulma eyed his retreating backside for all of about 1.7 seconds before her surging hormones took over completely.

"Vegeta, Wait," she called, glad that she sounded more cool, calm, and collected then she felt. He turned and eyed her curiously, not moving closer, but not pulling away, either.

"What is it, Woman?" He sounded impatient, but he didn't really look it, thought he did cross his arms over his chest. It made his biceps and pecs bulge nicely. Bulma had another fraction of a second to wonder it what she was about to do was very smart before her lust flared at the sight of all that hard body and drowned reason for good. Her mouth was slowly curling in a feline smile, a slightly predatory smile.

"I was just wondering something, about you, about Saiyans, actually," she said casually, knowing she had to go about this just right, or it might blow up in her face. Literally. "You are a race of warriors, are you not?"

Vegeta grunted and smirked, "The fiercest in the Universe," he bragged as she knew he would. "A fact of which you are well aware," his smirk was touched now with a dash of suspicion.

"Right," she agreed congenially, "but what I don't know, what I'm curious about, is the rest of your culture. Particularly, I want to know if there are similarities between Saiyan culture and the warrior cultures of Earth. For instance, is one's fighting skill the only way of determining a Saiyan's manliness?"

Vegeta's smirk faded hesitantly into a confused frown. "I'm not sure what your asking," he said, his voice a deep rumble in his broad chest.

"Well," Bulma said, "In many ancient cultures, like the Mongols or Vikings, one's position in the ranks of society were based on several factors. Battle prowess, physical strength and the like were only part of it. Ancestral rank played a part in it to some extent and there were things like intelligence and, of course, there was sexual prowess. Even in modern times, men still measure themselves in terms of sexual conquests. I was just wondering if Saiyans were the same. "

It took Vegeta only a few seconds to realize what the woman was getting at. "You were just wondering, out here alone in the middle of the night while wearing almost nothing?" His smirk was back, "You were just wondering what kind of "man" we Saiyans are? What kind of man I am, then, because, let's face it, Kakarrot wouldn't know Saiyan culture if it bit him on the ass and we are the last two. Why would a weak little think, like yourself, be curious about such a thing?" He had drifted perceptively closer to her balcony. "Certainly you wouldn't dare question my "manliness" as you call it.." he let the statement hang in the air with the promise of a threat right behind it.

Bulma felt an intense tightening between her legs. The verbal challenge toned in such a rough, gruff voice was nearly enough to have her knees wobbling. Nearly. She tried to look innocent as she uncurled her arms slightly and raised one hand to play with an errant lock of hair. Her other arm stayed wrapped around her middle, pressing ever so slightly up under her breasts.

"No, no, I'm sure as far as Saiyans are concerned you are… the epitome of manliness. You are the prince, after all, and one of the strongest your race had ever seen. I'm just trying to figure out if that translates into human, so to speak. Being royal, and powerful will certainly take you a long ways, but when we're talking about what makes a man a man, there are other… factors." She was pretty proud of her nonchalant tone and blank expression.

Vegeta was suddenly standing in front of her, the look in his eyes one of either murder, or perhaps unveiled passion. She swallowed hard and hoped for the later.

"Are you questioning my intelligence then? Or is my baser talents that hold such interest for you?" His voice had dropped even deeper, somewhere between a growl and a moan.

Bulma's breath hitched briefly in her throat. Her Fight or Flight instinct was kicking in and she struggled to maintain her composure. He was so close now, so close. She could reach out and… probably get her hand bitten off, she chided herself. Focus, Bulma, you aren't there yet.

"Well, in terms of intelligence you seem… adequate," she shrugged with one shoulder and continued to play with her hair.

"Compared to that moron, Kakarrot, I'm a fucking genius," he spit viciously. "And I'm certainly not one to be fucked around with. Why don't you just ask what you really want to ask," his lips were pulled back just enough that Bulma could see his slightly sharper-then-human canines.

She looked up at him through her lashes and lowered her active hand, releasing the thick blue strand to the small breeze tickling along her skin. "Plainly speaking, I'm wondering if you, Vegeta, can fuck like a real man."

There she'd said it. The question hung between them like a taunt piece of fishing line. Would he take the bait, or would he just bite? They stood like that for several seconds, Bulma's breath heaving her bosoms slightly under her white tank top.

Slowly, oh so slowly, an devilish sexy smirk curled his lips. "I don't suppose you're going to take my word for it," he whispered and his breath teased warmly against her lips. At which point her knees did wobble, just a bit.

She smiled her own sexy smirk and lowered her eyes, directing his attention to her arm as she lowered it slowly running it across her stomach and down over her hip. When she looked up again, his eyes were devouring her body on their way back up to meet her gaze. She tilted her head slightly and licked her lips. "Where would be the fun in that?" she asked and waited for him to make the first move.

She didn't have to wait long. He was on her in the time it took for her inhale to turn and become an exhale. He grabbed the back of her tilted head with one hand and slid his other up under her tank to grip around her ribs and lift her off her feet. In two quick strides he had her pinned against the wall, her legs went instinctually around his waist and her ankles locked behind his back.

The hand behind her head moved down the side of her neck and fisted into her tank top. With a pull and a rip her breasts were bare and heaving in the cool night air. Vegeta wasted no time burring his face in her cleavage, his mouth and tongue working at her skin with small nipping bites followed by skin soothing licks. He nuzzled in underside of her right breast, laying a trail of those strange biting kisses to her nipple which he took into his mouth and began to tease with teeth and tongue and lips.

Bulma arched her back, pressing her chest into his face and grinding her hips against his. Her hands moved on their own volition, first in his hair, then down his neck to his shoulders and back again, one second gripping him, the next messaging his tense muscles with her fingertips, the next brushing over him so lightly that they might be mistaken for butterfly kisses.

There was nothing soft or gentle in ministrations, however. Soon she was hissing with pleasurable pain as her nipples and the soft tissue around them suffered under his relentless mouth. First one breast, then the other, and then, just when she thought she might have to beg him to stop, he moved up, his teeth grazing her collar bone and then his face was buried in her neck.

Bulma realized then that he was breathing almost as heavily as she was now. She let him feast on her neck, tasting her skin and feeling his pulse with his tongue, while she enjoyed the way it all felt. Her neck was a particularly sensitive area on her and she loved every second. His hands snuck between them fondling her breast, twirling her nipples between his fingers and thumbs and alternately messaging her tits with expert firmness that was a welcome relief to the sting of his earlier love bites.

She bucked against the wall and writhed in his arms. When his mouth latched onto the soft skin of her shoulder she cried out loud for the first time as he began sucking mercilessly. Fucking bastard was trying to give her a hicky! The delicious mixture of pleasure and pain sent lighting shocks of ecstasy to her groin where she was already swollen and dripping.

She pushed him away with all her might, gasping against the side of his face as she tried to catch her breath. His tongue flicked across the overly sensitive spot in one last oral assault before he gave into her pushing and pulled back slightly.

She kept a fist in his hair, holding him still as she panted, her forehead now resting against his.

"Damn…" she whispered appreciatively and felt him smile. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw that it was still a cocky grin, but it was more smile then she'd ever seen on his lips. His gorgeous lips. She leaned in and captured his mouth with hers. Vegeta's eyes flew open. The sensation of mouth on mouth was new to him. It was the kind of thing that was considered extremely intimate and by most races, and intimacy was something the Saiyan's didn't do often. However, the experience was not exactly bad. She was very skilled at moving her lips and tongue in a way that was most… interesting. He decided to close his eyes and just go with it. For now.

Bulma felt Vegeta's hesitation when she first initiated the kiss, and was relieved when he eventually submitted. Then she was pleasantly surprised when he picked up on the rhythm of her tongue and reciprocated in kind. He was a quick learner.

Before too long Bulma's girly parts were screaming for attention. Without breaking the kiss she began using every muscle in her body to push and pull Vegeta, maneuvering him towards the open door and her bedroom. He gripped her hips with both hands as he carried her inside. She unlocked her ankles and lowered her legs, using her knees and thighs to caress his ass, hips and thighs. Her hands tugged at his shirt pulling it up over his stomach. Her fingers took their delight in feeling over the ridges and planes of his abs.

Vegeta dropped her to the floor and caught her hands with a growl. She glanced at him, a questioning frown on her face. Tisking, he shook his head at her and grinned. She pouted but he would not relent. She struggled to release her hands and his grin widened. Exerting his greater strength he pushed her arms behind her back and held them there with both arms. Her breasts now trapped against his chest and her hands immobilized she wiggled and squirmed, to no avail. He seemed content to hold her, pinned so, and made no move to release her.

"Dammit, Vegeta, let me go," she finally growled, but he just smiled. "Fucker! I mean it!" she set her jaw and pulled harder. The only result was the reddening and burning of her skin where he held her. "You're hurting me," she tried to not let that last come out in a whine and she almost succeeded. Almost.

"On the contrary, I'm just standing here. It is your pathetic struggles against me which cause you pain," his voice was low and husky, his eyes traveled from her face to her neck and breasts and then back up with a lecherous leer.

Her mouth dropped open. He was getting off on this! She stopped moving and stood perfectly still. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"Now what?" she asked, affecting as bored a tone as she could given the circumstances.

"Now, you learn your place, Woman." Vegeta said, squeezing her ever so slightly, pressing her more firmly against him. "You have obviously gotten too full of yourself. I shall have to teach you a lesson." He shoved her back onto the bed roughly.

Bulma's head struck her screaming pillow and she let out a small screech. Vegeta stood over her, glowering down with his dark, intense eyes and slowly raised his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Bulma tired to look shocked and offended, but between her legs she was gushing. He was chiseled perfection. Her eyes locked with his. He was fingering his waistband, but she wouldn't look. She stared into his eyes as he pushed his training shorts down over his hips and onto the floor.

Don't look, Bulma, don't…

She looked.

His engorged cock jutted straight out from his body, hard as a rock.

She refused to display her desire, refused to let her eyes widen or her eye brows arch. She tilted her head as though she were examining some complex circuit board. "Not bad," she shrugged and was delighted when his eyes darkened.

"Ungrateful Wench," he growled and bent over her legs, he crouched, walking his hands up beside her legs until he reached her underwear. With a flick of his wrist he tore them from her hips exposing her tender slit to the air. "Yes, you definitely need to learn your place," he growled and shoved her knees apart.

Fear flicked briefly across Bulma's face. Her instinct kick in and her flight won out. She pushed back, sliding away from him across her sheet. His arm lashed out and knotted in her hair behind her head.

"Stay," he commanded gruffly as he gripped her hip with the other hand and positioned her underneath him. "Is this what you wanted?" he whispered as he pulled her head back and exposed her neck. "Is this man enough for you?" he taunted forcing her knees apart again with his knees.

She wanted to scream yes, it was everything she wanted. HE was everything she wanted, but she understood that the battle was part of the fun. She ground her teeth together and pounded against his chest. "You beast!" she cried and tossed her head and bucked her hips.

Above her, Vegeta laughed, it was a dark, throaty, cruel laugh. "You don't want to be fucked a man," he growled and pinned her hands over her head with one fist. "You want to be fucked by an animal!" he roared, and with that he thrust into her juicy cunt.

Bulma arched beneath him and gripped his hips with her thighs, gasping as he filled her emptiness completely. His free hand moved over her skin, down her side where his thumb brushed the bottom of her left breast to her hip. He caressed almost gently down her thigh. When he reached her knee he flexed his hand and dug his fingers into her flesh. Not to draw blood, not even close, but his nails scraped up her thigh leaving five red tracks up the outside of her leg. It was pain, but not. The sensation lived somewhere in the land of hurt good, right on that line of pain and pleasure. And she loved it.

"You're going to get your wish," he whispered and leaned over to nip at her chin. Then his hand was on ass digging in to the softness there as he started to fuck her. He humped her, sliding in and out in a deep demanding way that brought her screaming within the first few minutes. But he wasn't done with her yet.

His control was epic. He stretched her beneath him and played her body like a sexual virtuoso. Bulma screamed and moaned, she gasped and cried, and when her mind was clear enough of the pleasure haze he set on her she moved beneath him, countering his moves with her own. She bucked and arched and circled her hips, grinding into him when he slowed and demanded more. More he gave her.

He took her on her knees, bent before him like a bitch in heat, ass in the air. One hand pulling her against him roughly, the other moving over her back, her sides, her breasts, and playing with that electric little button between her lower lips. He pulled her into his lap and fucked her from underneath, moving torturously slow and deep, until she was nearly sobbing as she rode him, squeezing him with her already insanely tight pussy.

When he started to tire he laid her on her side and pulled her top leg open to fuck her on his side, sliding in and out with delicious abandon. Their bodies became sticky with her juices and slick with their sweat. Before he was done with her, Vegeta had made her feel things she had never dreamed of and she had raked her nails down his shoulders and back and ribs leaving long red tracks in his already scared skin. By the time he came, grunting and pushing deep inside of her, her voice was hoarse and almost completely gone and all she could do was breath her breathy moans and hang on to the headboard for dear life.

When he finally collapsed, spent and limp, she lay in his arms, a puddle of goo inside her own skin, wondering if she would ever speak/walk/be able to feel her feet ever again, let alone form a solid, coherent thought. She didn't need to do any of thins to know her itch had been scratched, though. In that moment, curled up against his broad, slick chest Bulma was content. Satisfied through and through. And then some.

"I guess you pass," she said in a croaked whisper, not even sure it he was still awake. She was answered by a deep vibrating in his chest.

"You guess…"

She felt him smile and press a kiss to her damp forehead. "I guess you're going to need another lesson," he chuckled again as she stiffened. "Just not today." Bulma relaxed. "But soon. You'll learn your place, eventually, Woman, I vow it." His voice was light and playful, trailing off as he fell asleep.

But Bulma's last thought as she joined him in sleep, was that she was in her place right now, here in his arms.

PS I kinda don't like the ending, but... well, tell me what YOU think. Reviews are the sustenance of us writers. Thanks!


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